PPD can bite me

This morning I woke up, snuggled the new baby into bed with Husband and I. She laid next to me, breathing softly, sleeping.

Husband rolled over and snuggled up to me. On the boys monitor, I could hear our oldest gently and nicely wake up his little brother to play. It was Amazing. The joy I felt was so overwhelming and the love I have for my family shined so much, I teared up. Rubbing my daughters hair, holding my husband’s hand, listening to my boys being nice to each other and all I could think was “Wow… if I could bottle this right now, or even put it in pill form to take when the PPD monster rears her ugly head. Boy, I’d be set. I’d be able to get around what ever evil thoughts or self doubting I could possibly have. ” If it were only that simple.I know I’m at higher risk for PPD, this being my 3rd time thru this pregnancy thing and I had it with both boys.

DJ it was the feeling like a failure every way I turned. Not a day went by that I didn’t think in the back of my head how much I was screwing up being a mom or being a soldier or both. About the time I was starting to get the hang of it, the orders to move away from him and the husband came and it was like a sick twisted Alice in Wonderland I was in, following the rabbit down the darkest holes of my psyche, where I’d never be a good enough mother for leaving my baby so soon. That no matter how great I was after that time away from him, he would always hate me, and that he would always be right to hate me for being the non existent mom Monday thru Friday and some weekends as well.


Matt it was this fractured dark day where I was taking a bath with him, feeling so touched out and ready for him to nap somewhere besides my arms. I saw it so clearly, me drowning his tiny body in the tub. With a sick to the stomach feeling, my reality lurched on itself. Those weird out of body flashes you’d see on Ally McBeal? Just like that. Only it was me. Becoming those monster moms I judged on the news. And then I was back in the tub with him still cradled in my arms, staring up at me intently, enjoying the warm water. Okay then, time to go back on meds and talking to a professional.

But this time I’m trying so hard to not fall again. I know there’s a crazy high risk of me falling off the horse again. And needing the meds. My OB nurses were phenomenal, and all personally know me from the breastfeeding group project I took on last episode of PPD, and all were super watchful during my 4 day stay at the hospital. Day 3 I was a lot constipated and they thought it was maybe me hitting that button. I was still good mentally then, just like right now I’m feeling pretty confident. But having those extra people checking in, making sure I wasn’t about to end up I the show “Snapped”. It helps. These gals I consider my friends from our work together on the breastfeeding group. And since being home, I’ve been blessed with meals for our family from husband’s boss’s wife, family, friends. Blessed with friends who know my history who listen when I need to vent to keep myself on this side of sane and upside right. To remind me that I need to use my words when I think I can’t ask for help. And my husband who is willing to listen when I use my words rather then scream/sob incoherently much like our 2 year old when he’s frustrated. I swear have no idea where he gets it from, really.

So for now, I’m good. Feeling good mentally. But friends and family, keep asking. Because, even though I’m feeling confident now, I don’t want to be alone when I find myself falling again. I don’t want to be that mom on the news. And you guys are alot of why I feel so confident this time.

And I’ll work on doing what I can to keep myself up. I’m going to work out again. I’m going to ride my horse. I’m going to train more on my handgun and get good at it again. I’m going to focus on me so I can be great for my kids. Because, even when they drive me crazy, they are my bliss and happiness all in the same crazy package.

The nasty wreck I dont remember, but my body does.

A few months back I was given a retiring fox hunting thoroughbred to become my horse if everything worked out between us. My very first ride on him I thought for sure he would be a good replacement for my old thoroughbred who had died 5 months prior. That first ride I remember well. I had him in halter and lead rope only and did maybe a 20 foot circle of patterns back and forth right near the pasture gate bareback, as we didn’t know how he would take to my western saddle after so many years of riding English. super successful I thought. Since our round pen access was a few miles away I needed a way to move the horse from the pasture to round pen to properly work him before we tried to do the western saddle. The next ride however I decided to try with a bit in his mouth to see how well we would do bareback but with a bit in his mouth before we ventured out of the pasture down the road. Like the first ride I remember it well but this time for the lack of success. First there was no brakes, then there was no turning then there was a dead run sprint leading into a bucking fit that dragged me along the pasture about 15 feet hanging on the reins, my back and left hand took most of the beating for that trip. When he came back to me after I let go of the reins, I got back on him bareback again and had all but 4 inches of reins gathered in hand to keep at a walk back to the gate, where I tied him for a time out while a friend bandaged me up with some of her oils and craziness that totally healed my busted hand and back. Those next few rides we did a lot of ground work before I would feel brave enough to ride him, usually topping out at 45 minutes ground time. My last ride on Jack was an eventful failure. A friend and I had managed time babysitters transport everything so we could ride last minute and actually go somewhere for a ride since she and I usually loved going on long trail rides in different scenery, that day we loaded up the husband’s truck and her trailer and our 2 old men. I vividly remember the lead up to the ride itself, similar to how someone remembers a dream. I remember gal pal Hollie and I being worried about the 2 horses trailering together for the first time, and then both loaded up like nothing at all. We got to the farm and did our ground work and it seemed like we were all having a good day, and seemed to be ready to ride in about 20 minutes. About a 3 months ago now (Feb 2015) I finally remembered the rest of the ride. We got one and started off along a field, Jack acting a bit sketchy at first. I tried to correct he’d pull a bit more. We continued on, the farm dog got to following us, I turned around chased first, came back up to Jack trying to fight to run, corrected again while Hollie tried to chase off the dog. Jack humped up, the beginning of a buck, I finally had enough of his shenanigans pulled the reigns hard to right and started kicking to get him moving forward and into a circle so he would quit. 1 hop, kept pushing with my feet to move him forward, second buck a little harder, got some clearance of my seat, pushed my feet into him and my butt in the saddle as much as a could still trying to turn right. 3rd buck gave up on feet cues, worked on hanging on and riding out the bucks. 5th buck I lost my seat completely, mashing hip bone against the horn , then over it. 6th buck, on his neck, and getting nervous, we’re getting aimed on the hillside I will lose. Jack knows he’s almost done with me. He firmly moves his back end up the hill, head sloping down and bucks 1 last time and off I come. I tucked my chin, but still managed to smack the upper back part of my head on the ground, followed by my back and butt and legs. My first thought/ view was fuzzy. Not in the can’t remember kind of way, but in the blurred vision sort of way. Hollie jumping off her horse Gus in a very slow motion matrix kinda way, trying to grab Jack’s reins as he was starting to much on the grass having successfully told me where to shove this riding craziness. Her coming to me, me being worried about the stupid horse, and arguing with Hollie that I was gonna show that son of a B!#/@ for throwing me and that I had to get back on him, and how she knew it. Me getting in Hollies face that she wasn’t gonna stop me from getting back on him to correct this. Her throwing my heavy ass saddle to the ground so I wouldn’t get back on, me getting in my grandfather in laws face because he wanted me to go get checked out. Hollie promising me that she and Gus would work the shit outta that stupid horse if I went with grandpa and met up with Aaron and went to the hospital. Me asking Aaron every 10 minutes what happened and why we were at the hospital. The god awful MRI from head to hips. Asking Aaron again what happened. Him making a crack at me doing ten second Tom impressions. Me finally coming around to full cognition about 730PM, as they were moving me to a room at the hospital for observation during the night. Me calling Hollie to talk to her and get the recap of what at that point I still didn’t remember. The next morning, me calling Jack’s previous owner to turn him back over to her, because of the wreck. The problem is now, 8 months later, and I’m still not very confident in my riding, despite having a nice little mare now that blew me away on her first ride out, also my second ride total after the wreck had a few kinks, but stuff to be expected after not being ridden for years as a broodmare. She’s kind, amazing with the kids and seems to get that I’m still not right. She’s testing me now though, and I can’t seem to shake the sudden anxiety that hits going into a correction. And am so scared of something terrible happening that I can’t hardly bring myself to go for those nice long trail rides away from home, much less out of the pasture hardly. Like all those years of riding and being a confident bad ass are just gone. I know I need to cowgirl up a bit and get myself right. I know what I should be doing when she misbehaves. But my body can’t seem to take the knowledge I have and use it without panicking. Summer’s here, and I want to ride so badly, but I need such time to get right with my head, with my mare, and everything in between.

Again with the whole blog that’s not being used

Hey its May of like 2015. I have 4 saved draft entries since the last published post. Maybe I should get on that. So there will be some clean up and posting pretty quickly here. Today I yet again became that mom hiding from my children while eating some deliciously sinful food in the basement over the laundry room trashcan. What?! I know you all have been there. Don’t say you haven’t, unless of course you don’t have children or your children aren’t passed infant stage. Because, really once those Fu*#ers sweet little bundles of joy are walking and can see you eat something they will want all of it. Even if they are YOUR cupcakes. That you waited in line for an hour to get from the delivery cupcake truck. Yes, yes kids, you both were with mommy but since the line was at a park I feel like that was actually us acting as 2 separate units, really. Your missions were to play nicely with the other kids whose mommies were busy with cupcakes as well without incidents that involved us leaving or an ER trip, mommy’s mission was cupcake heaven!

#Slice of Heaven # Messy Reality

One of my favorite blogs to read that’s much more put together then I feel most days called Baby Rabies (authored by Jill Krause) is putting on an awesome photography challenge and I wanted to share a few of my options for it. The original blog post can be found here.

My first one was #slice of heaven


With the #messy reality being


My plants ready for transplant once the garden is plowed, extra house pieces, the cloth diaper drying line and and extra step stool we keep out on the Sun porch.
Second option was #slice of heaven

#Messy Reality

Laundry, nursing pads, and big kid toys we keep taking away because of the little pieces (dang legos when you have a huge age gap…) More to come once DJ gets home from school.

Thank you so much @BabyRabies for the inspiration and being willing to share your #MessyReality

Huh, what do ya know the blog is still here

Except for the fact that it looks oddly like that abandoned cobweb covered corner of the internet. Ya know, no big deal. So here I am 3 months later from the last time I wrote anything. Apparently, my sanity took a hiatus for a while, and left a tornado path of my life all over the place. DJ is now 5 going on 16 and OMG I may just kill this kid if the attitude and subsequent tantrums don’t stop soon.

Matt is cute and adorable and such a hold me baby, that well, minor house chores are now major accomplishments if I get them done.

Today and yesterday have been whirl winds as I get back on task wih the houee so my newest parenting adventure doesn’t “add to the back log of work that isnt getting done already” as hubby put it. What’s this new adventure you may ask? New craftiness or buckets of fun? I wish I was cool enough to have something that awesome to share.

Folks, we’ve hit that point where saving money on diapers sounds like a grand plan. Currently between baby food and diapers we are spending between 50 and 60 bucks every 2 weeks on diapers and food. And by we, I mean we just myself for now until Matt is potty trained or I convince hubby cloth isn’t so bad… So I turned to the good ole Internet. Starting my search at ThebabyguyNYC, I found he does not do any sort of reviews or gear guides to cloth diapers. But he recommended this wonderful blog here. Let me tell you, this woman has the most thorough cloth diaper barney style you could ever really appreciate. She tells you the difference in the diapers now a days, the costs, and then if your head isn’t swimming enough, she reviews cloth diapers in video form, currently hosting over 100 video cloth diaper reviews. After extensive review of the forementioned videos, I decided on a few things. A) I wanted All in ones or all in twos (most like disposables in their fits and ease of use) and B) that I wanted to test drive one of these babies. The research lead me to a kinda local cloth diaper boutique calledLittle Padded Seats in West Des Moines.

The kids and I made the journey, meeting my aunt in law up there. Let me tell you, granolaville, this was like the capital of crunchy good earthy momma store if I’ve ever seen. We apparently missed the memo of a huge baby shower esk thing at the fairgrounds, but the 2 remaining employees were extra pushy helpful for their products. Although on a side note, going to crunchy granola store has its perks, hey had a nice enclosed kids play area, and one employee literally was babywearing her 2 month old while helping us. Hey, I’m all for trying to get your commission, but let a woman take it all in before you try to push her either into a huge dollar amount purchase or towards something she doesn’t want. As if summoned by my thoughts of “whoa whoa whoa let me just look before I commit to anything” DJ had to go potty, who knew I’d ever see value in my kids bowel movements! I finally picked this one,

and liked it so much I bought a whole slew of them on Ebay. Despite the sales lady’s pitch of buying all new diapers, $20 a pop is just ridiculous for stuff my kids intentionally gonna poop on.

Did you know there’s literally a plethora of accessories you can buy to make your cloth diapering more successful? Like sprayers to help clean diapers at the toilet? Or better yet, an actual container thing to keep your poop spraying contained and aimed correctly into the toilet? Should you decide to do the original origami fashion of diapers, you don’t hafta worry about stabbing your child with a safety pin. It’s crazy, how much stuff they have now for this. It is definitely not our parents cloth diaper scene. Wish us luck, we will post more on this later!

That awkward mommy looks like an alcoholic moment

Oh look, yet another month has gone by without me rambling into the blog. Dangit blog, you were suppposed to write yourself and I was suppposed to be drinking wine and gracefully raising not killing children. So in the month’s past, I have managed to finally get the main floor of the house clean, mostly because we hosted my second somewhat flopped Pampered Chef Party. I can’t help it, the idea of somebody cooking for me keeps luring me in. Especially when so far I had a show with 4 attendees and yesterday’s record of 1. Guess what that means? This chick gets awesome leftover I didn’t hafta slaveover myself in the first place.

But the somebody else cooks era of my love affair with Pampered Chef is about to come to a fully committed relationship. That’s right, I’ve been swindled into selling cookware. I guess in a round a bout way it could be worse. I could be selling Tupperware, in which nobody really knows if when you ask about a tupperware party if their talking storage containers for the kitchen, or the type of tuppperware thaat comes with batteries that you hope and pray the kids never find.  For the 2 readers who didn’t know this about me, I’ve done the consultant ropes before, with Mary Kay. Seems I keep coming back to these sort of things throughout my life, must be alll the sparkly pretty incentive stuff they pitch at me.

So on to that awkward moment. In true veteran fashion, any story worth telling starts with something to the effect of “So there I was.” And the military/ family members who just read that, also completed it in their head with something very derogatory and or just plain gross. IF you didn’t go there in your head A) what are you doing here again? And B) go ahead fill in the blank “so there I was” with the worst thing you can think of, trust me it’s fun!

So there I was, bottle of trapped moscato looking for a way out and not finding the $$^%#%#%@*(&^%^**%^$ cork screw. I looked in all three places in the misc drawer I usually keep it in, looked in the baby bottle drawer, under the misc drawer in the cabinet, all the while loosing my ever loving mind. Don’t you fools see this poor wine is trapped in a bottle and I need to free it now!! And then as I am cursing and looking around,  the 4 year old captor here asks me what I’m looking for. “The twisty thingy to open mommy’s wine bottles.” 4Year old pauses a minute, both of us looking in the misc drawer, when he reaches in calmly and hands me the wine opener. Good kid! I have trained you well! Hopefully your future wife someday realizes this brainwashing was for her, really!

Ok, ok, I’m slackin!

Hey look guys I am still alive.  We’ve been rocking some serious stay at home momminess. I mean, like fully embraced the yoga pants, occasionally get a delusional sense that house chores are all done, wearing the baby in the Moby wrap like 20 hours a day type momminess.

Somebody warned me once a upon a time that the blog may be a sanity saver. Clearly I wasn’t listening well enough to understand that.

So, let’s call this my starting over moment with the blog for my sanity.

DJ has been in pre school now for almost a month and I think we finally have the schedule working for us. The bus comes and picks him up at 1130ish and drops him back off around 330pm, Tuesday thru Friday. Which has been helpful in me getting stuff done around the house. But then there are days when a certain crabby baby number 2 insists on being held the whole day.

On these days we get little if anything done.

But Today is not that day!
Today is lets try to cut some of the clutter look the living room has gotten thanks to the roaming toy pile.

Materials needed:
One largeish cardboard box leftover from something you bought recently. My box today? The leftover box from crabby baby’s Fisher Price Spacesaver High Chair (by the way is our second one of the same brand and type we’ve bought because I got rid of our first one, doh! And well, we keep having kitchen table areas with very little room for extra chair space without taking away from the walk around space.)

One Trash bag to cut a paint tarp from

Rattle can paint in Black, you pick the finish, though I love me some Satin finish. Not quite so shiny but has just the right amount of flash for nearly everything

Leftover fabric or contact paper in a print you like, mine today is leftovers from one of our first posts the Hutch remodel found completed here

And for a splash of pizzazz, and well I was looking for an excuse to break out the new cricut machine I got from my anniversary, I cut out these super cute letters off the Chalkboard Fonts cartridge.

First things first, cut your tarp out of the trash bag. If your super thrifty you can reuse it, but I tend to not be that way now that we have the new baby. Lay it out somewhere outside so it’s well vented, putting your box upside down on the tarp.
Nosy dog pictured here not needed, but he does make the projects more interesting.
Spray a nice even coat or two of your rattlecan paint job onto the box. You can cover the whole botton or just the edges as I did because well the bottom’s not gonna matter too much since no one will see it. (Now when you guys come for a visit, don’t go lifting up the toy box and ratting out my laziness, LOL)

When the box is totally dry, apply your fabric using some spray adhesive or contact paper using the sticky backing it came with.

Before you put the painted edges on the carpet etc in the house, make sure you dust off the box using a plain paper towel to catch any extra paint flecks that may be leftover from the paint. Remember this a clean up project not make a bigger mess project, despite my table saying otherwise when the cricut is out and in use.

The end result? A fantastic toy box that cost next to nothing.

My living room feels more clean and chic already! Maybe the next post I could get around to upcycling my storage boxes (pampers boxes) in the nursery.